


Come Back to the Bough

by Longpig



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Background Cayak, Clothed Sex, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, I guess this makes Lotor a DILF, Married Couple, Parenthood, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 15:56:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17748914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Longpig/pseuds/Longpig
Summary: The pressures and demands on new parents are often high, and Allura feels she has been too long away from the social and diplomatic arenas; and in some ways, her husband Lotor. Thanks to a generous offer from Coran and Dayak, the two have a chance for a night out to enjoy the adult world, and each other's company.





	Come Back to the Bough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KnightDawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightDawn/gifts).



> _Come back to the bough  
>  Your finest words are wasted  
> Come back to the ground  
> And lay it down  
> Come back to the leaf,  
> And be once more a lover  
> Stranger lay your head  
> On roses red  
> No one needs to know  
> But me  
> I will be your secret company  
> Come back to the ground-  
> And lay it down_
> 
> \- [Mary Epworth, _Come Back to the Bough_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oXB9nHs5R0k)

“I don’t know.” Allura fussed over her reflection in the vanity, turning this way and that, her delicate eyebrows drawn together in a worried frown. “I just don’t know…” The Coalition Ball, a gala fundraiser for the Blade of Marmora’s humanitarian relief efforts, was the first major intergalactic event she would attend since the birth of her daughter, and she was uncommonly troubled. _I’m being ridiculous!_ she chided herself. This type of party was her natural environment, the sort of function she’d been raised to command and and dazzle as a princess. Dancing and diplomacy, cocktails and conversation. _So why am I so anxious?_ Perhaps it was the fact that so much of her communication lately involved baby talk and raspberries. _What if I’m out of touch, out of practice?_ She nibbled at her bottom lip, and refocused her nervous energy on her appearance.

“Should I have chosen different earrings? Or put my hair up? What if the other guests think my dress is improper?” Her lips turned downward as a fresh pang of uncertainty shook her. She had adored the gown she’d chosen from the moment she’d seen it—a dazzling creation that glittered as though it was woven from the fabric of space itself, spangled with stars and splashed with deep blues and violet. The strapless bodice with sweetheart neckline was cut low in the back and fitted perfectly to her form, showing off the figure she’d worked so hard to regain, while the full skirt floated atop airy layers of crinoline. The sort of gown that little girls dream of wearing… But was it too much? The exposed back? The deep décolleté? “I am a matron now, after all,” she murmured, eyes downcast. “Perhaps I should change into something more conservative…”

“Allura.” Lotor leaned in the bedroom doorway, handsome as ever in his own formal attire, though it was of more typical Galran design. Glancing up, she caught his eye in the mirror, then cast a fretful look over her shoulder.

“What do you think? I could wear the plum one instead, with the halter neck…”

A slow, gentle smile spread across his face, crinkling at the edges of his eyes. “Allura—”

“—or maybe the rose with the beads; I only wore that the once… And my hair, oh, I just don’t know...”

 _“Allura.”_ Lotor gave his head an exasperated shake, and crossed the room in a few strides, coming to stand behind her as she turned back to the mirror. “You look beautiful. A vision.” Allura shivered as he gathered her hair back and let it fall between her shoulder blades, grazing her neck with those long, elegant fingers. She could not help but beam as she met his gaze in the glass—she would never tire of the way his eyes softened when he looked at her.

“You think it’s alright then?” she murmured, her anxiety muted by the warmth of his hands on her shoulders.

“There is but one thing amiss, my love.” Lotor leaned over her and plucked her tiara from the vanity, then set it carefully atop her head. “My Empress must have her crown.”

Allura’s hand fluttered to her lips to catch the giggle that spilled free as her cheeks warmed. How was it possible for him to still make her feel so _girlish;_ so delightfully flustered? Perhaps it was in part due to just how long it had been since they had gone out socially together, without the little Princess. ‘Date night,’ Coran called it—another Earth colloquialism he’d acquired. She rose from her vanity to take Lotor’s hand, misgivings now forgotten in the face of his warm expression, the barest hint of fang peeking through that crooked grin. “Thank you, my lord husband,” she said with exaggerated formality.

“In any case, Coran and Dayak have arrived; so I am afraid you must resign yourself to this stunning gown for the evening.”

Coran was already firmly under little Melenor’s spell when they emerged, cooing and babbling at her as she gleefully yanked on the ends of his mustache. Dayak stood by, arms crossed, affecting an air of disapproval that would have been entirely convincing to the untrained eye.

“Oh! Prin—Emfreff!” Coran called cheerfully,still bouncing Melenor in his arms, not bothering to disentangle his facial hair from her chubby fists. “You look marvelouf.”

“Thank you Coran,” she replied, smiling warmly. “But how many times must I remind you that the title is unnecessary? It’s just us, after all.”

“At least once more, it seems!” He laughed as Melenor let go of his moustache in favour of tugging on his ears.

“Titles are important,” Dayak said with a disdainful sniff. “As are _appearances._ ” For a tick, Allura’s heart dropped into her stomach, but Dayak stepped past her to fuss with Lotor’s collar instead. “And I will not allow the Blood Emperor to attend an official function looking so disheveled!”

“Thank you Dayak,” he sighed with a resigned smile, when she had adjusted his tunic to her satisfaction.

“And thank you both for agreeing to watch Mellie tonight!” Allura added, and looped her arm through Lotor’s elbow, taking possession of him before Dayak could find another imperfection to worry at.

“Think nothing of it! Any opportunity to spend time with this little cherub!” Coran positively beamed as he lifted the baby up over his head, laughing as he watched her little legs kick with excitement. An echo of his smile spread across Allura’s face, and she hugged Lotor’s arm a little tighter. Coran and Dayak were the closest thing Melenor had to grandparents, and it warmed Allura’s heart that he, especially, was so keen to play a role in her life.

“Is there anything we should know about before you depart?” Dayak asked, always the practical one.

“Well…” Lotor hedged. A fleeting trace of a frown pulled at his features.

“She’s been... a bit fussy in the evenings of late.” Allura flashed a grin— a preemptive apology. As much as she had been looking forward to a night out with Lotor, she worried about whether Coran and Dayak would be able to handle her temper if she became unsettled. If she were honest with herself, it was that fear, along with the all-too-predictable maternal guilt over leaving her baby with someone else, that weighed on her more than any anxiety about her outfit or the social occasion itself.

“She has been cutting some teeth—”

“—Teeth?” Dayak interrupted before Lotor could explain further. “You mean _fangs._ ” Eyes narrowed, she leaned over and hooked one clawed finger under Melenor’s lip and lifted it up to inspect the hard little bumps under her gums. She hummed critically as the baby chomped happily on her knuckle. “Yes, just as I thought. She’s almost a decaphoeb old; it’s about the age.” The severe line of her mouth softened and curled upward as she cast Allura a sympathetic look. “It does tend to be worse at night.”

“We’ve had to let her sleep in our bed for the past couple of movements,” admitted Allura—a half truth; it was easily over a phoeb. “It’s the only way she’ll settle.”

Dayak clicked her tongue sharply. “You coddle that child too much,” she scolded. Having extracted her hand from Melenor’s jaws, she refolded her arms over her chest, drumming manicured claws on her bicep.

“She’s a _baby_ , for Groggory’s sake! You’re _supposed_ to coddle them!” Coran laughed, while Dayak pursed her lips at his light-hearted rebuke. “Run along you two, we have everything under control here!”

“If you’re certain…” Allura glanced from Lotor, to Melenor, and back again.

“Of course I am! I may be just a squince out of practice, but believe you me I know a thing or two about babysitting a feisty little princess!”

“Should you need us to return, or—”

“—we have your communicator frequency, yes, yes.” Dayak huffed in exasperation, with a dismissive wave. “Lotor, escort your wife to the shuttle before she clucks us all to death.”

Allura’s jaw fell open at the temerity, a retort curling on her tongue, but Lotor was already steering her out the door.

“Have fun!” Coran called cheerfully after them. “We won’t wait up!”

 

“It will be fine, Allura,” Lotor reassured her as they settled themselves in the shuttle. And it was, mostly. The ball was just like those she remembered from her youth; all dazzling gowns spinning across the dancefloor to spellbinding music in a lofty and magnificently decorated hall. It was wonderful to see Keith, Krolia and Kolivan again. Lance, Pidge, and Shiro were in attendance as well, representing the Galaxy Garrison, and Hunk managed to say hello in between fussing over the event’s catering. But somehow, Allura couldn’t relax into the evening the way she wished to. Perhaps she’d simply been away from the social sphere for too long… She nibbled her lower lip as she checked her communicator once again to make sure the lack of messages wasn’t due to a malfunction.

“I keep telling you, they will be fine.” Deep blue on gold eyes searched hers out, as Lotor’s hand gently wrapped around hers and pulled the device from her fingers. She huffed a small, guilty sigh as he tucked it into his jacket.

“I know… but Melenor—”

“—is in good hands. Coran dotes on her, and Dayak… Well, Dayak was able to manage _me_.”

“I suppose so,” she allowed, albeit with a slight pout.

“So let us make the most of our evening, and their generous offer.” He offered her his hand, with a courtly half bow. “I would be most honoured if you would favour me with a dance,” he smiled, eyes sparkling. Allura’s heart melted.

“The honour would be all mine.”

Lotor was as graceful on the dancefloor as he was with a sword. Allura was conscious of a multitude of eyes following them as he led her across the room, moving fluidly with the music. As he spun her back into his arms after a graceful dip, she idly wondered if Dayak had a hand in this aspect of his well-rounded education.

“Allura,” he murmured close to her ear, low enough so that only she would hear him over the waltz. “You must know that I adore Melenor. I would die for her. Kill for her. But I have missed this… You. Us.”

She lifted her gaze to meet his, and there it was: the softness, the vulnerability that was only for her. The warmth in his eyes melted her anxiety away once and for all, and now her chest ached with a wholly different emotion. “Oh Lotor,” she whispered, surprised by how shaky she sounded, “I have missed you too.” She sighed. “I suppose it is too easy to get so caught up in being a parent that we forget we are other things as well. Partners. Husband and wife.”

“Lovers.”

Allura’s cheeks blazed, and warmth blossomed in her belly at the low, sultry purr of his voice.

“So you don’t see me as just a mother now?”

Lotor pulled her closer as the music slowed to a more languid tempo. “My love, if there is a soul in this room who does not wish they were dancing with you, it is only because they wish they _were_ you.” His intensity stirred her further, and she found her body molding to his, her arms winding around him, her head resting in the crook of his neck so that her lips brushed his velvet skin. She wished that she could taste him, or—

“Hey you two, leave room for Jesus!”

The sound of Lance’s boisterous voice pulled her abruptly down to the planet’s surface. Hurriedly, she drew herself back into a less indecorous position, flushed with embarrassment to the tips of her ears. Pidge snickered behind Lance’s shoulder as they danced past, disappearing into the crowd of couples.

“I—I don’t know what that means,” she stammered, although the context had given her a clear enough picture.

Lotor chuckled, apparently unruffled. “Would you like to get some air?”

“More than anything,” she mumbled, resisting the urge to hide her face in her hands.

 

The gala was being held on a sprawling estate once owned by the now-deposed King Lubos: a sumptuous manor—practically a palace—surrounded by meticulously groomed gardens. From the low balcony where Allura now stood, an elegant stairway swept down to a small, flower strewn courtyard with paths leading off to other parts of the grounds, lit by softly glowing bioluminescent blooms.

“What a beautiful spot,” she murmured, resting her hands on the railing. Lotor wrapped his arms around her from behind, leaning over to set his chin on her shoulder.

“Do you think there is enough room for Jesus out here?” he asked, all innocence.

A bright, full laugh burst freely from her lips, and she twisted around to face him. “Well I certainly hope so!”

"Good.” He pressed a kiss to her mouth, as soft and as sweet as the first time she’d tasted him. Her lips parted eagerly, her tongue seeking his as her hands roved over his broad chest. Desire stirred once more within her; a hot smolder ready to ignite.  “Shall we take a little stroll?” Lotor asked, pulling away so that his words brushed her lips. “To avoid further interruptions.” His eyes were half-lidded and dark, his cheeks dusted with a fetching red-violet. Allura imagined that she must look must the same.

“I would like that.” Taking the arm he offered her, she leaned into his warmth as they walked down the stairs. She felt wonderfully giddy and light, as though this was some new whirlwind romance, brimming with excitement and mystery. Within a few doboshes, the sounds of the party faded, and they found themselves following a path through a simple maze bordered by flowering hedges. The trail soon led to a clearing at what Allura assumed to be the centre of the labyrinth, ringed by fruit trees, with a round stone table in the middle. She could easily picture a summer garden party being held there, just like those her mother used to host on Altea. WIth a sigh of contentment, she spun around to take both of Lotor’s hands in hers. The hungry glint in his eyes evoked another, very different memory.

“You know, this rather reminds me of when we were first together,” she hummed, a playful grin tugging at her lips.

“Oh?” Raising an elegant eyebrow, he stepped closer; and Allura let her hands wander up his arms to his shoulders.

“Stolen moments like this… secret kisses…” She looked up with a coy smile, batting her eyelashes meaningfully. Lotor was quick to take the hint, leaning in to capture her lips once more.

“Sneaking around our ships,” he murmured between kisses, “so your paladins wouldn’t catch us, or see me coming from your room…” His hands were on her hips now, drawing her against him.

“Mmm… The hangar.” She arched her neck to his hungry mouth.

“The decontamination chamber.”

“So much foam,” she giggled, pulling him into another kiss.

“The Sincline ship…”

“The quintessence field…” Allura shivered as she felt his claws at the small of her back, just above the curve of her bottom.

“An Olkari garden.” His voice was low and rough, his hands now greedily exploring her body. She groaned, biting her lip as his thumb brushed the underside of her breast, setting her desire ablaze even through the stiff fabric of her gown. And speaking of stiff… ”I want you, Allura, he growled. “Here. Now.”

“Someone might find us,” she protested, but it was half-hearted at best. “Is this… do you think this is wise?”

“Does it matter?”

“No,” she giggled as Lotor lifted her by the waist and set her down on the stone table. As if she could ever deny him when his eyes flashed like that, when his claws trailed over her burning skin. His need pressed against her as they devoured each other, lips already swelling from the fierceness of their kisses. She was as hungry as he was. Her hands fisted in his silky tresses as his mouth blazed down her neck, whispers of fangs against her throat. “No biting,” she gently admonished with a light tug on his hair, somehow recalling that she would have to spend the rest of the evening with her shoulders bared.

Lotor made a frustrated noise somewhere between a growl and a whine that was _almost_ enough to make her retract that caution. “Were we truly alone,” he rasped against the hollow of her throat, “I would peel this gown off you with my teeth, and properly ravish you.” The lust rolling off his tongue made her stomach clench against the heat in her core. His hands moved over her half-bared sides as they kissed again, and she half wished he _would_ just tear her bodice down and claim her breasts with those wonderfully large Galra hands; pinch her, suck her until she screamed… A needy whimper escaped her throat.

“You’ll just have to do it _im_ properly,” she moaned into his lips. She felt as much as heard the breath hitch in his chest. His hands were at her hips again, tugging at her skirts, wrestling with the layers of crinoline to pull them all up to her waist.

“This is entirely too much dress,” he muttered as one of the tiers escaped his claws. Allura couldn’t help but grin at the note of desperation in his voice.

“Surely a simple frock is not enough to defeat my resourceful husband,” she purred, teasing. A  low, dangerous rumble was her reward. Lotor drew back and, to her surprise, dropped to his knees in front of her. He slipped his hands beneath her dress and slid them up along her legs, squeezing and caressing as he pushed the front of the skirt up to her thighs. Allura reached forward to gather the froth of of lace and tulle against her chest, breathless with anticipation as he hitched her knees over his shoulders. His mouth was like a brand, searing a path up the inside of her leg to where she ached to be touched; but then, just at the hinge of her thighs, he paused for a tick, and inhaled a deep breath through his nose.

“Allura,” he rumbled, a deep purr behind his words, “you smell _delicious.”_ She felt his fangs now—just a little pinch in this secret, tender place; just enough to mark her with his passion. His hands moved up to her waist, thumbs sliding under the edge of her panties, rubbing tantalizing circles in the hollows of her hips. There was a quick tug as his claws sliced through the thin silky fabric; she gasped in pleasure and surprise at the sensation of the warm night breeze on the slick, suddenly bare flesh between her legs. She barely had time to draw another breath before his mouth was on her; his tongue slipping between her folds, dragging up the length of her slit; hot, wet, and just a little rough.

“Ancients,” she whimpered as a shiver ran through her, “I have missed this…” Lotor knew precisely how to inflame her, how to make her squirm and moan and _beg._ When he sucked her clit into his eager mouth it took everything she had not to scream for the entire estate to hear. Allura reclined on her elbows, panting, back arched, toes curling, fingers tensing into fists around handfuls of crinoline as her heat coiled ever more tightly. “Lotor, _please…_ ” she moaned, breathless. She knew she wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer, and she needed to _have_ him, to feel him inside her when she lost control. “Please, I, I, I _want…!_ ” Her breath hitched as words failed her, but Lotor understood her desires. _My perfect mate; my beautiful husband._

Lotor carefully lowered her legs to the table as he rose. He stood tall above her now, and Allura’s mouth watered at the sight of him: hair tousled, chest heaving, his arousal straining obscenely against the front of his trousers. His lips were slack and glistening; his eyes hooded and blown dark with lust, a whisper of blue ringing wide black pools as he gazed down at her. “So beautiful,” he murmured, almost to himself, as his claws ghosted over the tops of her thighs.

Allura’s heart swelled along with her need. She lay back against the stone, pillowed by her hair, and stretched one arm out toward her husband. “Come to me, my love.” He needed no further encouragement. He bent over her, bracing himself on one forearm as he crushed his lips to hers, his other hand fumbling with belts, buttons and fasteners to free himself. Her eyes fluttered shut, her breath catching as she felt his heat press at her entrance, then the sweet familiar stretch when he slid inside her at last. Lotor growled low in his throat as he joined himself to her fully, a sound that vibrated through her entire body and left her trembling. Voluminous skirts fell all around them as she lifted her arms to twine them around his shoulders, and rolled her hips against his, revelling in the push and pull of his ridges against her sweet spot. “Lotor,” she breathed, her voice so low and husky she hardly recognized it, _“make me yours.”_

He did.

For a few doboshes, Allura utterly forgot that she was outside under the open sky, laid out on a slab of marble rather than her own bed. All she felt was Lotor, inside her, above her, all around her; their bodies writhing together as they sought the release they’d denied themselves for so long. She hooked her legs together behind his back, pulling him deeper into her with each thrust, sweaty and reeling, light-headed from the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, until at last the tight-wound coil was sprung. Allura shuddered through the exquisite explosion, teeth clenched to muffle a cry that threatened to split the night, digging her fingers into the muscle of Lotor’s shoulders, gasping deep lungfuls of air as he rode her through her aftershocks, driving her to the brink of delicious madness from overstimulation.

As her spasms began to fade, her eyelids fluttered open just in time to see him throw his head back, hair shimmering and fangs gleaming in the moonlight, eyes shut and brow furrowed, magnificent in his ecstasy. Allura tightened herself around him as he drove into her once more; heard the breath go out of him, felt him throb where they were joined, and he collapsed into her arms with a satiated moan, his ragged breaths hot against her neck.

His silken hair veiled her face as they lay tangled together, tickling her nose when he moved to press tender kisses along her throat and jawline. Despite being half exposed to the open air, Allura felt cozy and warm in her afterglow. She sighed with deep contentment, rubbing slow circles on Lotor’s back as they both drifted back to reality.

“You are stunning, my love,” he murmured, a deep purr suffusing his words.

“And you are incredible.” She pushed the hair back from his face, and traced the graceful point of his ear with a fingertip, smiling as the vibration in his chest intensified. “I hadn’t realized how badly I needed this,” she said softly. “We must resolve not to let it go so long again…”

“Mmm. If you continue paying such splendid attention to my ears, I shall only need a few doboshes.”

“Did I say incredible? I must have meant incorrigible,” she giggled, but as the adrenaline ebbed, her apprehension began to trickle back. “As much as I would love to indulge your delinquency, I fear we’ve been gone long enough that someone may actually come looking for us...”

“I suppose you are correct,” he sighed. Reluctantly, he pushed himself off her, and she shivered at his sudden absence. When he had tucked himself back into his pants and more or less righted his clothing, he offered her his hand to help her sit up. Her skirts were rumpled and wrinkled; she smoothed them out as best she could, and hoped that the weight of the dress would do the rest. At some point she had managed to lose one of her shoes, but Lotor retrieved it from underneath the table. Kneeling in front of her like a sworn knight, he laid a soft kiss on the turn of her ankle as he slipped it back onto her foot. “Regrettably, the other item you lost is somewhat the worse for wear…” He flashed her a self satisfied smirk as he tucked the remnants of her ruined panties into his pocket.

“Rake,” she huffed, her flushed cheeks darkening further still.

Lotor laughed, a rich, genuine laugh that few others had the privilege of hearing. “Apologies, my dear. Would you allow me to atone by escorting you back to the ball?”

“I _suppose_.” She hopped down from her perch, then grimaced at the sensation of wetness between her thighs that followed. “...Perhaps with a stop at the lavatory on the way.”

———

The suite was dark when they returned at the evening’s close, and to Allura’s surprise, quiet—until Lotor stepped on Melenor’s squeaky yalmore toy. He swore under his breath, but as the yalmore’s wail died away, the silence returned. As her eyes adjusted to the low light, Allura noticed that there quite a lot of toys scattered about the floor—in fact it rather looked as though the toy chest had exploded. An image of Coran desperately pulling out doll after doll in an attempt to placate a screeching Melenor flashed before her eyes, and the worry she’d banished earlier in the evening came creeping back. The high chair had been left out as well, spattered with gobs of half-dried food goo.

“Oh dear,” she fretted, hardly realizing she’d spoken aloud until she felt the warmth of Lotor’s hand at her elbow.

“I’m sure nothing is truly amiss, my love.”

Allura nodded absently, already heading for the bedrooms. Their own bed was empty, made up just as it had been when they’d left. Melenor’s crib, too, was unoccupied; but a familiar snore drew her attention to the larger spare bed that shared the nursery space.

Melenor lay blissfully, _quietly_ sleeping, snuggled between Coran and Dayak. The governess’ headpiece had been discarded—or perhaps torn off by small, grabby hands—revealing her elegant backswept ears. Coran, looking disheveled but peaceful, was snoring away with his arm draped across Melenor, his hand resting on Dayak’s shoulder.

Relief flooded through her, and she couldn’t help but smile at the sweet, cozy scene before her. If Lotor hadn’t still had her com, she would have taken a picture. Instead, she slowly backed out of the room, and carefully pulled the door shut. Lotor stood waiting in the hall, watching her with a fond smile.

“I told you it would be fine,” he whispered.

“So you did… Do you realize what this means?” She looked up at him, her grin turning mischievous.

“Hmm.” Lotor wrapped his long arms around her waist and pulled her close. “We have our bed to ourselves for a change?” He trailed a claw up the length of her spine, his eyes darkening with desire.

“Yes… and this time I expect you to put those teeth to use.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine Allura loses a lot of panties this way.


End file.
